We're Friends, Right?
by MellaBrooke
Summary: Kurt and Dave are supposed to be friends, right? So they should probably start doing that. Dave/Kurt - Mention of suicide so be warned -
1. Chapter 1

**Oh hey, remember when I went completely out of my comfort zone and started a Glee fic? Holy shit, I'm nervous. I really love this ship (Dave/Kurt) and I just want to do the ship justice because the Pirates are, like, the best people and they have high standards... So, yeah, here's this thing that I started...**

**They are broken up into Kurt's POV and Dave's POV. **

* * *

Four weeks. That was how long it had been since he was forced out of the closet by a homophobic, inbred of a jock who had, at one time, claimed to be his friend. And, just as he had feared, people reacted how he thought they would; with ignorant hatred, homophobic slurs, and violent threats. Now, thanks to one stupid Neanderthal and his big mouth, David's life had completely and utterly been flipped upside down.

In the past month, he had elected to forgo finishing out the semester at Thurston High School and, instead, decided to finish it out at home – under the ever watchful eye of his father, who, since his suicide attempt, had been more than slightly over protective about who he hung out with and what he did with them.

Not that his father need be concerned about him getting into trouble. Since he returned home, he had very rarely left his house – either out of shame at his brush with death or continued fear of ignorance in Lima. And, as if his self-imposed hermitage wasn't enough to keep him safe, the only people who had visited him were Santana (which shocked him, initially) and Brittany.

The two, who were now – to his surprise – dating openly, stopped by his house bi-weekly to make sure he wasn't "doing anything stupid." Their visits, though brief, were the only real social contact he experienced, thereby insuring that there was no way for him to get into any real trouble.

The only reason I know any of this about David Karofsky is because Santana Lopez told a group of us at the Lima Bean about half an hour ago.

In that time between him being discharged from the hospital and Santana's admittance of her visits to check on him, my own number of visits to the Karofsky household had totaled to zero.

After finding out that the only visitors that David had received since he had returned home had been the Teen Lesbians, the guilt I felt was stifling. After all, I had promised him when he was in that hospital bed that I would help him – that everyone who cared for him would.

And now it seemed that the only people who cared were Brittany, Santana, and his father.

Ashamed of my inability to think of anything other than myself, NYADA, and Blaine, I forced myself to sit through the rest of Santana's gossip, Mercedes' discussion of Sam, and Brittany's story of Lord Tubbington's triumph in his fight against his addiction to ecstasy before excusing myself to return home.

The instant I walked into my room, I walked over to my desk and opened up my laptop, grateful to be home alone.

In the next instant, the soundtrack from Wicked was filling my ears… Grateful for Idina Menzel's voice and range, I began to sing along as I opened up a tab for Facebook.

Finding his profile took less time than I had thought it would. Moving my fingers across the mousepad, I moved it over his name and clicked, waiting patiently for his page to load.

As it did, I instantly wished I hadn't looked. In the last month, not much had changed on his page. People still left derogatory comments about him and there were more than a few wall posts spouting cries of indignation that his suicide hadn't been successful.

It was more than I could handle. Scrolling back up, I looked at his picture and felt the guilt return tenfold before I clicked out of the tab.

How could I have left him to deal with this alone?

Frowning, I reached for my cell phone and thumbed through my address book before finding his number. When I finally found it, my finger rested at the bottom of the screen as I looked back and forth from the message option to the call option.

Calling would be quicker and it would allow me to check up on him and apologize profusely for my absence… but I wasn't sure either of us would've handled that well.

After another few moments of deliberation, I pressed the message option and began to type out a lengthy message filled with encouragement. Shortly after beginning the message; however, I knew there was no way I could send it. Not because David didn't deserve the encouragement and well wishes, but because it was too impersonal.

Instead, I sighed and typed out a quick 'Hello,' hoping that David would see it as a friendly gesture and not hold it against me that I hadn't contacted him until now.

Staring at the message for a few moments more, I took a breath before sending it.

Now all I could do was wait and see.

* * *

"Dave?" Dad opened the door with a slight creek and stuck his head into my room. Without looking, I knew his gaze was immediately drawn to me, sitting in front of my bed, a video game controller in hand.

"Yeah, dad?" I paused the game, looking back over my shoulder and tried not to notice the relief on my dad's face as he saw me, alive and more-or-less well.

"Just wanted to see if chicken was alright for dinner tonight," dad replied, trying, yet again, to play off his concern.

I nodded and tried to give him a smile to assure him I was fine. He didn't seem convinced, but he nodded in return.

"Alright then. You'll be okay? I just need to run to the store." His hesitance was palpable.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." I motioned to the television, which was paused on a snowy, mountainous scene. "Just trying to get to Solitude to find a flute…"

Dad smiled at that and I felt a relief of my own. It's good to know that he finds me playing video games to be a reassuring thing since it's virtually all I've done outside of school work.

"I'll be back in a bit then," he replied before pulling the door to. There was a pause before I heard his footsteps leading away from my room.

When I was finally sure he was gone, I made to unpause the game. Before I could, though, I heard the tone of my cell phone that meant I had a message.

Brow furrowed, I climbed to my feet and walked over to my desk, where my phone lay half-dead.

Aside from Santana, who only texted on days when she and Brittany planned to visit, I had received no communication from the outside world. In fact, I avoided it and preferred it this way.

In spite of this, I clicked the 'New Message' button and waited for my cell phone to remind me to charge it before it showed me who the new message was from.

When I finally saw the name of the sender, my brow furrowed all the more in confusion. 'Kurt Hummel.'

Why was he messaging me? I hadn't heard from him since that day at the hospital and, to be honest, I hadn't expected to hear anything else from him ever again.

After all, I got what I deserved, right?

Frowning slightly, my finger hesitated over the 'open' option. Did I really want to read whatever Kurt had to say?

The message opened with the brief contact of my thumb and the screen. Of course I did.

'Hello.'

Kurt waited a month to tell me hello.

To be honest, I wasn't sure what exactly to do with that. Did I say hello back? Would it be better to just ignore that it happened at all? And why was he trying to talk to me anyway? He was probably still with pretty boy.

I felt my stomach turn at that. I was being stupid. Kurt had promised to be my friend – nothing more – and even though I still had all these weird, fucked up feelings for him, Kurt had done nothing wrong. In fact, he had been incredibly nice considering…

Looking back down at the message, I sighed before deciding upon what I felt was the most appropriate response.

* * *

After sending the text to David, I left my phone on my bed as I went to shower.

When I returned two hours later, I had three new text messages awaiting me. The first two, from Blaine and Rachel, were anticipated. The third; however, was a complete surprise.

'David Karofsky.'

I hadn't anticipated that he would actually respond – particularly not so quickly. But there it was, his reply… sitting in my inbox just waiting to be opened.

After briefly skimming through Rachel's text and responding to Blaine's inquiry about lunch the next day, I opened David's message.

'Hi.'

In spite of myself, I smiled. David was a man of many words.

Pleased that he at least seemed open to trying to be friends, I replied again, this time sitting with my phone until he replied.

'How've you been, David?'

It only took five minutes before I got a reply.

'Alive.'

My lips pursed at that, trying to determine if this was his idea of humor or if the past few weeks had just been that difficult to get through. From what Santana had said, he had almost no contact with the outside world recently, but if he _**had**_ looked at his Facebook, then he definitely would be having a hard time of it.

Still unsure, I replied and took my phone with me downstairs as I started dinner.

'Well, I, for one, am glad for that.'

* * *

**Yup. There it is.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh hey, look, I wrote another chapter. Weird.**

**Alternating POV's.**

* * *

'Well, I, for one, am glad for that.'

Kurt had said as much in the hospital a few weeks ago – that he was glad I was alive, but much as I had been then, I was still at a loss for what to say in return. 'Thanks' hardly seemed appropriate… and any other remark I could reply with probably wouldn't have been met with much enthusiasm from Kurt.

And if I wanted to be friends with Kurt – and I did – I needed to at least attempt to not be bitter.

After all, he was right that night at Breadstix. He was with pretty boy and, even though I had done everything I could think to do to make him feel special, he couldn't just end his relationship over a week's worth of gifts and praise, right? Especially not after all I did to him.

I tried to convince myself of that almost every single night since; that it was okay for Kurt to be in his relationship – and not with me - as long as he was happy; as long as he'd forgiven me.

Of course there were nights when I was more selfish about my thoughts concerning Kurt or when I was concerned with things completely un-Kurt-related – like being outed by complete dickheads from Thurston. But, generally, I tried to assure myself that I would never try to make Kurt unhappy again – even if that meant hearing about him and pretty boy.

And now, presented with the opportunity to be Kurt's friend, I would not fuck it up.

No, instead, I would put as much effort into being his friend as I had the entire week of Valentine's.

All I could hope was that Kurt would give me the chance.

* * *

Throughout the rest of the evening, David and I chatted as amiably and awkwardly as only we could do. The length of our text messages varied from text to text, but there were very few lulls in our conversation. Sometimes, our texts were entire sentences and, other times (especially for him), they were only one word. But the texts never stopped coming.

To be honest, I was glad – and relieved – that he was willing to talk. It allowed me an opportunity to find out how he'd been since he came home and try to offer any sage advice – if needed.

However, he didn't say much on the subject of his sexuality – nor of his almost suicide – and, though I was sorely tempted to ask about his sexuality, I made no attempt to bring either of them up. Instead, I let him decide most of the topics of our conversation and merely tried to keep up – something I wasn't used to in the least.

His texts were standard teenage boy texts. He complained about how he couldn't manage to complete a challenge on Skyrim and how he hadn't had any decent Chinese food in a while. Though, to be fair, he did try to relate to me, asking about regionals and Blaine – or as David referred to him, 'the boyfriend.'

He was polite, though not entirely open, and, considering, it was probably the best I could ask for as of now.

So, instead of pushing him, I let him set the pace of our friendship, telling myself that whenever he might need me, I would be ready to help.

* * *

Two days had passed since Kurt first texted me and, to be honest, I am surprised that he did it. Even more, though, I'm surprised that he continues to text me.

I'm sure I come off as a total – what was it Kurt called me? Oh yeah, Neanderthal, what with all my talk of video games and food, but he doesn't seem to mind. Or, if he does, he does a pretty good job of pretending otherwise.

It's probably mind-numbingly boring to him. He'd probably prefer talking about musicals or clothes, but I'm not good at that stuff. That's why he has Berry and that Jones girl. But I guess if he's making an attempt to pretend like he cares about my Nordic character on Skyrim, I can at least try to watch a musical.

'Don't ask questions, but what's that musical with the gangs that you tried out for this year?'

There was a brief pause – as there always was – before Kurt's quick response.

'You mean West Side Story?'

'Yup. That's the one.'

With the name written down on a sticky note, I slid the cell phone in my pocket and left my room, taking the stairs two at a time before I found my dad sitting in the living room.

"Hey, uh, could you do me a favor?" My hands are getting sweaty – a sign of nerves, though I'm not sure where they come from.

Dad looks up from the baseball game he's been watching. "Sure, son, what do you need?" He's eager to do whatever I want; anything to keep me from – well, anything to keep me happy.

"Could you, um, could you go and rent this movie?" As I ask him, I hand him the tiny piece of paper with the quickly scribbled title.

To his credit, Dad doesn't say anything. His brow arches slightly, but instead of commenting, he nods and turns off the television, preparing to go just then. "Of course. Did you want anything else?"

I pause at that. "Yeah, um, would you want to watch it with me?"

The smile that breaks out on my dad's face makes me sure that I've said the right thing and I smile in return, pleased with myself.

"Of course."

* * *

'Yup. That's the one.'

I stare at the text message while I'm pouring over what to wear to dinner with Blaine. Why is David interested in West Side Story all of a sudden? Is it for some sort of homework assignment? Does he have to write an essay about the parallels of mid-1950s New York and 14th century Verona?

I puzzle over it for another moment or two before deciding, yes, that has to be the reason. David has to watch it for school. That's why he was asking. It was only a coincidence that it was somehow linked to me. He probably only thought to ask me because I made a big deal about not being cast as Tony and Santana probably bitched about it to him…

Or was that it?

I shake the thought from my head. David may've thought he liked me once, but a lot has happened since then… Things that are much more important and pressing than whatever feelings he thought he had for me. And, besides, I'm still with Blaine.

Almost immediately as I have the thought, I recall that I am supposed to be getting dressed for our date.

Deciding to leave my response to later, I hurry over to my wardrobe and begin mixing and matching clothes together until I have the perfect date ensemble. Pleased with myself, I pull on my coat, make sure my cell phone is in my pocket, and head to meet Blaine, who Finn informs me has just pulled up.

* * *

If I'm honest, it wasn't that bad. West Side Story, I mean.

In fact, in between the Sharks and the Jets hilarious dancing, my dad's running commentary, and the huge bowl of popcorn that we shared, I can't remember a time recently in which I've felt so at ease.

As soon as the credits began to roll, Dad turned to me and smiled. "I'm glad we did this, Dave."

I nodded, in complete agreement. "Me too."

Then, as he got up to take our now empty bowl to the kitchen, I spoke. "Would you – would you want to do this again?"

He smiled and nodded, clearly pleased at my desire to do something with him. "Of course. I'll pick up another movie on the way in from work."

"Make it a musical," I tell him, giving him a sheepish smile before turning the channel back to sports so he can see who won before I head to my room.

When I get into my room, I quickly start up my xbox, ready to play some Skyrim. From what Kurt had said yesterday, he had a date with pretty boy – no, his name is Blaine – tonight and I didn't want to interrupt.

So, instead of worrying about texting him, I turned my attention to the screen and began trying to kill a dragon.

* * *

The date I had anticipated as being romantic had turned out to be anything but when Sebastian conveniently showed up at Breadstix.

If Blaine knew he had planned to show up, then he at least had the decency to look shocked by his sudden appearance. Regardless, though, it left me more than a little irritated - particularly when Sebastian barely greeted me. Not that I cared to talk to him. But Blaine was my boyfriend. Mine. Not his. And he needed to get that through his thick skull.

From that moment on, the date had just gone downhill. Blaine was friendly to Sebastian and, even when the Warbler finally left, the only romantic thing he managed to do was ask about how my food was.

I think it's safe to say that the date left much to be desired. Though, of course, I didn't tell Blaine that. Instead, I had listened to his detailed plans for us to win at Nationals, sat quietly in the car on the ride home, and kissed him goodnight when he walked me to my door.

It just seemed like too much trouble to bring it up. 'Hi, honey, could you be a little more romantic? I'd appreciate it. Thanks.' Besides, it would probably leave both of us irritated.

So, instead, I tried to forget that the date had happened and, after briefly talking to Carole and dad, I said goodnight and went upstairs to prepare for bed.

After my moisturizer routine was complete, I walked over to my bed and took up my cell phone, checking to see if I had any messages.

When I saw that I had a message, I was shocked to find myself disappointed it wasn't from David. I tried to rationalize my disappointment by telling myself that I was worried – after all, I hadn't heard from him since earlier in the day. It was only reasonable to worry about your friend – especially a friend who could still be considered a suicide risk.

Not entirely convinced by my argument, I checked the message – from Blaine – and returned the sentiment out of reflex ('I love you, too.') before opening a new text.

'I heard you can get married on Skyrim, is it true?'

Then, once the message was sent, I settled down in my bed and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**Yep. That's a thing I did.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I have so much anxiety about you guys hating this... Honestly, I'm not sure if I'm proud of it or ashamed of it. Oh well. Enjoy. **

**Remember, alternating POVs!**

* * *

I had been in the middle of walking through the mountains to Windhelm and I was totally in the zone, watching for signs of bears. The last time I'd been attacked, I died, so I was on edge about it happening again. Making my way around the landscape, I made a point to keep my eyes on the compass in case any red dots showed up when suddenly, I heard the obscenely loud message tone of my phone and mistook it for a bear. Out of reflex, I pressed the button to draw my blade and stab the offending digitalized bear only to realize it was my phone.

After recovering from my mild embarrassment, I paused the game and picked up the phone – hoping that it was Kurt.

My lips pulled into a grin as I saw his name in my inbox. Touching the screen, I watched as our messages opened and I read the latest one from him.

'I heard you can get married on Skyrim, is it true?'

His question made me laugh. It was hilarious to me that the only thing of interest to Kurt about video games was whether or not you could get married.

Though, to be honest, it was those types of things that I liked about Kurt. That he wasn't afraid to be romantic or open about his feelings. It was – as gay as it sounds – pretty inspiring.

Looking over at my clock, I decided it would probably be rude to text Kurt back just then. After all, he might actually keep normal hours and sleep during the night – unlike me.

So, instead, I put the phone back down on the floor beside me and returned to the game, my mood improving drastically with the text from Kurt.

I knew it was stupid to think about Kurt in a more-than-friends way (and it was also pretty much forbidden), but, as I tried to play the game, I kept getting distracted by thoughts of him. Which, again, was stupid, but I couldn't help it.

He was with prett- Blaine. He was with Blaine. And I was his _friend._ Nothing more. And that would be okay – it would have to be okay because, honestly, sporadic texts from Kurt throughout my day were much better than none at all.

Resolving myself with this thought, I tried to focus on the game again.

Surprisingly, it worked because by the time I looked back at my clock, it was closing in on 8am.

Feeling more than a little sheepish about how late I had stayed up, I shut off my xbox, turned off my television, grabbed my phone and climbed into my bed.

Just before I began to drift off, I remembered Kurt's text.

Quickly – and with clumsy hands – I opened our message and responded, hoping I wouldn't be waking him up.

'True. Can even Barry guys with guys.'

I was already half asleep by the time it had sent, my phone long forgotten on the mattress beside me.

* * *

That morning when I woke up, I immediately looked over at my clock, pleased to see I had managed to wake up fairly early. Being awake so early would give me more time to get ready for Quinn's farewell party, which I needed to look fabulous for.

Rolling over, I looked at my side table and saw that there was a new message on my phone. I wasn't sure who else would be up this early – save for Rachel – but I was curious regardless. So, reaching over, I grabbed my phone and opened the message.

It was from David, which was a relief. A text from Rachel wouldn't have been unwelcomed, but it was too early to deal with Berry drama. I couldn't deal with Rachel's drama until I'd had at least two cups of coffee.

Skimming over David's message, my brow arched slightly in confusion. Barry?

I wasn't exactly sure what he meant by the text… Maybe it really was just too early for me. Sliding my fingers across the screen, I checked my last out-going message to see if I could discern what David meant from that.

Almost immediately as I did, I realized exactly what he meant and felt a little foolish at not understanding earlier. Not only could you marry on Skyrim, but, if you wanted to, you could marry someone of the same sex.

It pleased me that David had thought to include that in his response. He could've just responded with an affirmative answer, but, instead, he had added what I'm sure he thought was a thoughtful detail. And, to be honest, it was.

Smiling at my phone, I typed out a quick reply before going to get breakfast. The rest of my day would be filled with putting the finishing touches on Quinn's gift, putting together an outfit, moisturizing and heading over to the Lima Bean, where everyone was meeting beforehand.

But first, I needed coffee.

Climbing out of bed, I went about my morning routine before I headed downstairs to get a cup of coffee.

When I got to the kitchen, Dad was sitting at the table with what I knew was a heart-healthy meal by the look on his face.

"It won't bite," I assured him as I pulled a coffee mug down and went over to the coffee maker.

"Says you," dad grumbled before taking a bite of the egg whites Carole had no doubt made before she left for work.

I smiled at that in spite of myself. Both of us knew it was necessary for him to eat healthy and, typically, I was stern about making him do so, but every once in a while, Dad's grumpiness about his meals were humorous and I couldn't help but crack a smile.

Once my coffee was done, I picked up the mug and walked over to him, hugging him before I headed back upstairs and got lost in the things I needed to do.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when I finally woke up and, to be honest, I'd never slept so well in my life.

I'm not sure why exactly that was, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Sitting up, I stretched and looked around for my phone out of reflex. Over the last week, I'd gotten used to waking up to messages from Kurt. Not finding it anywhere around me, I began feeling under the sheets. After a little feeling around, I found it tangled in my sheets at the foot of the bed.

'Three new messages.'

Looking through my phone, I found that two of them were from Kurt and one was from Santana.

Trying not to appear too eager to read Kurt's message, I read Santana's first.

'You need to stop playing that stupid game and get out of the house. Bathe, get dressed, and come to Quinn's party. Brittany and I offer to be your personal Bullywhip Escorts, provided you need us.'

I laughed at that, knowing all too well that Santana would, without a doubt, cut someone for me. That was just the kind of 'Lima Heights' girl she was.

But we both knew I wouldn't be leaving the house anytime soon – especially not to go to a Glee-related function. No offense to the Glee kids, but I just wasn't prepared to deal with all of them looking at me. I could just see them all now, looking at me with eyes filled with either pity or disdain.

No, I just couldn't handle that.

Flipping through, I opened the messages from Kurt.

'Though I am somewhat tempted by this, I think I'll stick to SIMS.'

I tried not to notice the time-stamp on his text was, literally, about ten minutes after mine. Instead, I turned my attention to the next text message, which, I noticed, was only sent about half an hour ago.

'Ran into your dad at the Lima Bean just now. He said he was on an errand to get Guys and Dolls for you. What class are you taking and when can I enroll?'

My brows knitted together in confusion at his text. What did Kurt mean about a class? Did he think I was only watching the musicals because I was required to? And, if he did, was that better or worse than him knowing that I was really only watching them to relate better to him?

Deciding it was better not to reply until I had decided, I put my phone down and went to shower and dress. If dad had ran into Kurt just half an hour ago, it meant he would be home soon and, with any luck, he'd be ready for an early supper because, honestly, I was starving.

* * *

The entire time I was at Quinn's, I kept looking at my phone. I told myself it was because I wanted to keep track on the time, but I wasn't fooling myself. Nor, apparently, was I fooling Santana because about an hour into the party, she marched over to me looking determined.

"Give it up, Lady Lips. Who are you so anxious to hear from?"

As per usual, she was trying for intimidating and, though she wanted it to, it wasn't going to work on me.

"No one. Just checking the time," I replied, coolly.

Her brow arched. "Every five minutes?"

She had me there.

"So fess up," she continued. "Who's stolen the attention from your Wonder Twin over there?" As she said it, she indicated Blaine, who was busy talking to Rachel about something across the backyard.

I knew I had two choices then. Either I could tell her the (innocent) truth about my friendship with David and she might leave me alone or I could lie.

Though the second option was tempting, I knew the first was better. After all, there was nothing wrong with me being friends with David. I wasn't ashamed of our friendship. The opportunity to tell people just hadn't come up… until now.

"Fine," I replied before looking over to make sure Blaine was still with Rachel. Not because I felt guilty about texting David, but because I knew Blaine would – yet again – take it the wrong way and I was not particularly fond of being treated to a lecture on morality and dating yet again.

Santana looked at me expectantly, her brow arched as she waited.

"It's David. We're friends now."

If she was surprised by the news, she didn't show it. "Then see if you can get him out of his house. I've tried everything short of force and the boy won't budge."

"He might not be ready," I began, but I was quickly cut off.

"Ready my ass. He's been holed up in his house for over a month. He probably hasn't seen the light of day in weeks. He needs to get out." She looked over at me and I swear I saw concern. "Just try, okay? I have a feeling you'd be more affective at coaxing him out than I would."

A bit shocked and confused by her response, I merely nodded.

* * *

Half an hour after I had woken up, Dad had came home, bearing pizza, donuts, and Guys and Dolls.

Three hours later, the two of us were sitting on our couch, an empty pizza box in front of us and a half eaten bag of donuts between us as the credits for Guys and Dolls rolled.

"Wasn't bad," I said, looking over at Dad.

He shook his head. "Not bad at all."

It was nice, spending time with Dad like this. When I was at McKinley, the only time we'd get together would be a brief dinner – if we were lucky. Now, though, without football and obligations to hang out with friends, we had time together and, as gay as it might sound, it was nice.

"Do it again Monday?" he asked as he stood to clean up our mess.

I stood too, grabbing the pizza box before he could. "Sounds good."

There was a pause before I spoke again. "You can go if you want, I'll clean this up."

Dad stopped in picking up our dishes. "You sure?"

I nodded, giving him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. He smiled in return and put the dishes back down before he headed upstairs to his office.

Once he was gone, I began cleaning the living room, throwing away our trash and washing our dishes before straightening the couch cushions and turning off the television.

By the time I was finished, it was dark outside and, though I knew there was a quest that awaited me on Skyrim, I decided to finish up the last bits of my schoolwork. With the McKinley kids finally out for the summer (or forever in some cases), it wouldn't be long before Santana and Brittany came to remove me from my room by force and I knew I'd have to be ready.

* * *

As we were all leaving Quinn's party, Blaine asked me if I wanted to come over to his house for a bit before I had to go home. As tempted as I should've been by the offer to be alone in his house with him, I declined, insisting that I needed to go home and check up on Dad.

Then, after I had kissed him goodbye, I took off to catch up with Sananta, who had just said goodbye to Brittany. "Let's talk."

Fifteen minutes later, the two of us were in the Lima Bean, situated in a cozy corner booth.

"Care to tell me why I'm here instead of home talking to my girlfriend?" she asked, glaring at me across the table.

"I just wanted to ask about David," I admitted sheepishly. "I haven't talked to him much about anything serious. I was wondering if he'd mentioned anything to you."

Santana leaned back in the booth and looked at me for a few moments, examining me as if she had X-Ray vision. "He hasn't said much to me either," she finally replied. "He mentioned your almost love affair though."

I felt the guilt again. "I should've gone about it better…"

"He understood," she assured me. "He didn't want to be a home wrecker. Though, to be honest, I'm sure he would've been a breath of fresh air compared to Gel Boy."

I ignored the comment about Blaine. "Did he mention anything else?"

She stirred her coffee absentmindedly. "He got accepted to Wagner two weeks ago. They're still willing to offer him a football scholarship, provided he finish out this semester with a GPA that doesn't suck."

"Wagner? He applied to schools in New York?" I couldn't help but be surprised. After all, New York had always been my dream and I'd never imagined David might want to be there too.

Santana looked at me with a smug smile. "Looks like you're not the only one who wants to get out of Lima, Teen Gay."

"I guess not."

* * *

**Obligatory 'I hope you enjoyed it' comment.**


	4. Chapter 4

**My anxiety almost got the better of me with this chapter. Like, seriously, I stressed out over it for ages. I really hope you guys still like it.**

* * *

After breezing through my Calculus final, bullshitting my way through my English essay and guessing my way through my final Spanish quiz (hopefully of my life), I had finally finished my senior year.

Regardless of what my grades were, I was officially done with high school. It was a fucking awesome feeling… to know that I never again have to go back to high school or deal with ignorant shitheads in Lima.

No, instead, come August, I'll be headed to New York, where I'll play right guard for the Wagner Seahawks.

The knowledge that I'd be able to start over – to be completely out without worry – made me excited. I could be whoever I wanted to be in New York. I wouldn't have to live with the constant paranoia and self-loathing that I'd been experiencing for the past year. I could be happy.

And, hopefully, if Kurt got into NYADA we might be able to continue our friendship. Honestly, I couldn't see how Kurt wouldn't get in. He was the most talented person I knew – Berry included. Definitely more talented than Blaine, who still, somehow, managed to get a majority of the solos and the part Kurt wanted in the musical.

So, _when_ Kurt got in, we'd only be half an hour away from one another.

Though, to be honest, I wasn't sure if Kurt would want to be my friend when we went off to college. He'd always made it perfectly clear he wanted to leave all of Lima behind when he went to New York and, though I didn't want it to, that might include me.

Not to mention I hadn't even told Kurt yet where I was going to college. I mean, in my defense, he hadn't asked, but I got the feeling he wanted to.

I got the feeling he wanted to ask a lot of things, but I was still trying desperately not to fuck up whatever we had going so I tried to keep the conversations safe. Food, video games, parents… safe topics.

While I was thinking about our conversations, I remembered I hadn't responded to Kurt's question about Guys and Dolls.

But, to be honest, I still wasn't sure which was better – to lie and say it was for class or to tell him the truth and risk him getting weirded out by my creepy attempt at being his friend. At least, it seemed creepy to me.

Regardless, I went over to the side table where I left my phone earlier and picked it up, swiping my finger across it to cause the screen to light up.

As I did, my phone notified me that I had five new text messages.

Instantly, I felt my stomach drop. This couldn't be good. Not at all. That many text messages in just the last few hours? Definitely not a good thing.

Hesitantly, I brushed my thumb over the screen again and watched as it informed me that three of the texts were from Kurt, one was from Brittany and the other was from Santana.

I started out reading Brittany's text, knowing it was the safest option. Brittany would never message me with bad news.

I read her message and felt a bit calmer. She was just reminding me to watch 'Fondue for Two' tomorrow. I made a note on a piece of paper to remember to watch it before looking back to my cell phone.

For a good minute or two, I looked between Kurt's name and Santana's for a long time before hesitantly opening the latter's message.

'I'm giving you three days to get out of the house or I'm dragging you out the Lima Heights way.'

She was serious. I knew it without having to ask. If I didn't get my ass out of the house in the next few days, she would come over, armed and ready to beat the living shit out of me until I finally did leave.

I didn't know why she was so intent on getting me out of the house – she of all people knew how I felt. But, to appease her, I replied and told her I would consider going for a run tomorrow. Maybe.

If that wasn't good enough, she'd deal. It was a huge concession on my part and it was as good as she was getting right now.

After I had handled the happy couple's texts, I opened the messages from Kurt, feeling the nerves return.

They spanned from not long after his last text to about an hour ago.

'Best thing about Quinn's party? Everyone's fighting over the karaoke machine her mom rented. Rachel almost broke Finn's nose.'

'Did you like Guys and Dolls?'

'Are you doing anything tomorrow afternoon?'

I dropped my phone as I read the last message, completely shocked.

* * *

I very rarely actually get nervous. There are times when my nerves are on, but typically I can use that to my advantage – like with Regionals or before a date. I can use those nerves and turn them into something amazing, like a perfect solo or a terrific ensemble.

But sending a text asking David to hang out? I can't do anything with the nerves from that. No, all I can do is lay on my bed, flipping through old issues of Vogue and glance at my phone every so often.

It's been an hour since I sent the text. I know because I've checked. And, to be honest, I don't even know why I'm so nervous about it. I mean, we'd been officially "friends" for a week and, at least for me, it didn't seem weird for the two of us to hang out. We'd have to hang out eventually sometime, right? And, besides, Santana had asked me to try to coax him out of the house, so this could be my first step in doing so.

Still, though, I'm nervous. A little voice in my head points out that maybe I'm still afraid of David, but I brush that thought aside easily. I haven't been scared of him for months. I've felt sorry for him and then I worried about him… but I haven't been scared.

Unable to figure out why I'm nervous, I try to ignore it in favor of anxiously watching my phone. I think to text Santana and ask her if she's heard from him – just to know that he's okay. But then I remember that she's probably on the phone with Brittany and interrupting Brittana while they're on the phone is just a really bad idea for all involved.

So, instead, I just look at the old photos in the magazine and wait.

After another hour goes by, I decide to text Blaine. After all, he is my boyfriend and I haven't talked to him since he called after dinner. And even then, our conversation was too brief for my taste.

Opening up our message, I type him a quick, cute message. Once it has sent, I scroll through all our old messages. As I do, I realize that the feelings I used to get when I read Blaine's message – the giddiness and excitement – aren't there anymore.

I can't claim to be an expert on actual relationships, but I'm fairly certain that those feelings are supposed to be fairly consistent throughout a relationship. They typically are on-screen/on-stage. But maybe I'm just having an off-night. Maybe I'm just too tired to be giddy.

That has to be it. It's been a long day anyway and things will probably return to normal tomorrow morning. Because I love Blaine and of course he still makes me happy – even if the romance has dwindled a bit for my liking.

Yes, tomorrow will be better. Blaine and I will meet up for brunch at his house where I'll help him prepare for his summer job at Six Flags (again) and then we'll just try to make as much time as possible for one another before I leave for New York in the fall.

It'll be perfect.

As I'm mentally planning what I'll wear tomorrow when I see Blaine, my phone vibrates to my left and I look over to it.

'David Karofsky.'

Though I can't figure out why, my stomach twists into knots.

Reaching over, I pick up my phone and open the message.

'Nope. Not a thing. Why?'

I feel relieved by this. It means he may be open to hanging out. Which is a thing friends do. And we are friends. Just friends. David knows that and so do I.

Before I can think of a reply, my phone goes off again. It's Blaine.

'I can't make it tomorrow. Mom needs me to run errands. Rain check?'

Though I'd typically be extremely disappointed by Blaine having to cancel our date, I find I'm relatively calm about it. We'll just meet up later in the week, no problem.

'That's fine. I'll just see you next week sometime. Love you.'

I wait a few moments for Blaine to respond – 'Love you too.' – before I tackle David's message.

I type out at least a dozen texts before finally settling on one that – I hope – comes off as friendly.

I don't have time to worry if it's not because almost as soon as I've finished typing, I press 'send' and my phone informs me that it's been sent.

Feeling somewhat relieved, I climb from my bed and head over to kill some time by checking my email.

* * *

Since I responded to Kurt's text, it's all I can do to keep from staring at the phone.

It took Santana almost an hour to convince me that it wasn't a trick. I'd called her as soon as I picked my phone up off the floor and, after she'd yelled at me for interrupting her and Brittany, she asked me what was wrong. Apparently my anxiety was audible.

Without pause, I told her all about my friendship with Kurt – from the initial text message to now.

Once I was finished, she, in typical Santana fashion, said, "Yeah, and?"

See, she didn't understand the gravity of the situation. I really liked Kurt and I had screwed up so many times in the past with him that I really didn't want to fuck up this friendship we had going.

I mean, I knew Kurt wanted to be friends and I was sure that friends sometimes hung out. But just the idea of Kurt wanting the two of us to be purposefully in the same place together… It was hard to wrap my head around. It seemed kind of soon for us to be hanging out, but if Kurt didn't mind, I didn't either. At least, I didn't until I thought about all the ways I could ruin our friendship.

Before his visit at the hospital, the last time we'd been together was on Valentine's Day and, well, we both know how well that one went. I completely screwed up – as per usual – and I was kind of terrified I'd do the same thing this time.

If he wanted to hang out, though…

My phone interrupted that thought as the text tone went off and distracted me. Now I wasn't sure how that thought was supposed to end.

Looking over, I saw Kurt's name and tried not to think too much as I reached for the phone. Overthinking was bad.

I could handle hanging out, even if it was Kurt. Because we were friends. In spite of all the times I screwed up before.

With a few swipes of my fingers, his message opened.

'Leave your day open. I'll be over around 2. You're going to teach me how to Skyrim.'

My lips curled into a grin at that. Skyrim and Kurt? That didn't sound too bad. I doubt even I could manage to screw that up. Or, at least, I hoped.

* * *

'If you think you can handle it.'

Ha. If David thought I was going to be at a complete loss about how to play Skyrim, he was in for a surprise.

Heading over to Finn's room, I knocked on the door and waited for him to make himself decent before I opened the door.

"I need to borrow your game thing." What were those called? Consoles? Yeah. Consoles. "Your console."

Finn, who was laying on the bed, was on the phone – more than likely with Rachel. He made a movement with his hand towards the television as he spoke to her, saying things that made my stomach queasy.

Turning around, I looked at his television, trying to figure out where exactly the one I needed was.

After a minute of standing there dumb-founded, Finn spoke. "Hold on a second, Rachel – Which one do you want Kurt?"

I turned to look at him. "I want to play Skyrim," I replied, waiting for his look of incredulousness. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Just help me."

Finn continued to laugh as he climbed from the bed to fumble through the numerous cords and wires that surrounded his television.

After a few moments, he handed me an oblong black console before putting a controller on top of it. "Game's inside."

I looked down at it before thanking him and hurrying out of there. I wanted to hear his pillow talk with Rachel even less than he wanted me to.

Hurrying back to my room, I began trying to hook up the system. It was easy enough. Just like plugging up a DVD player.

With everything hooked up, I turned the game on and waited.

My brow arched as I saw the little Finn avatar on the screen. Was that really what he thought he looked like? Ha. Rachel must've been feeding his ego lately.

Brushing aside my amusement, I moved the joystick around until I saw Skyrim. I clicked and waited, leaning back in my chair as I started the intro.

"We'll see who can handle whom, David," I muttered to myself, even as I moved my joystick around, looking at the men in the wagon with me and wondering what I had gotten myself into.

* * *

**If you need me, I'll be over here suffering from fits of anxiety... so... yes.**


End file.
